


Morning Star

by jaygirl987



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaygirl987/pseuds/jaygirl987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He collapses gently to his back once more and arches, stretching his lax muscles to awaken and prepare them for the day of godly achievements awaiting them. He freezes in surprise as a soft, slow and coy hand lazily caresses his unsuspecting thigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Star

  Something is tickling his cheek.

  He wrinkles his nose lightly and jerks his head away slightly as his eye twitches. Blinking back sleep blearily, he stretches languidly, halting instantly and becoming immediately aware of the slight weight resting against the crook of his shoulder. Rough fingers run through and tangle lightly in the silky onyx hair draped around them as a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He recalls last night's late activities as his eyes adjust to the dim light slowly illuminating their bedroom.

  It's early, but his internal clock is already ringing an alarm, telling him that despite his exhaustion, it's time to rise and shine like the star that he is. Routines need to be kept, miles are waiting to be run, and it's chest day for his weight lifting schedule. Begrudgingly, he shifts slightly to begin easing his arm from beneath her slumbering form.

  Mission accomplished, he sits up and rests his weight on his elbows, his face soft as he studies her quiet, peaceful features. Battle-calloused hands are tender as he leans toward her to allow rough fingers to graze the soft skin beside him and tuck raven strands behind her delicate ear. Disgustingly early rays from the slow-climbing sun are painting her pale skin with warm spring hues.

  He scrubs the back of his head and yawns as he tries to convince himself to leave their warm and cozy bed. He knows he should get up...Knows he should show his face to the early morning... Ugh...Fuck- he doesn't _wanna_... He _could_ skip today's workout... He could say a hearty "fuck it" and flop back against the pillows with a middle finger in the air to the rest of the world. Even though it would be better to get it out of the way now... After all, the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can return.

  He collapses gently to his back once more and arches, stretching his lax muscles to awaken and prepare them for the day of godly achievements awaiting them. He freezes in surprise as a soft, slow and coy hand lazily caresses his unsuspecting thigh.

  Of _course_ she's awake.

  He smiles somewhat sheepishly at her and laughs lightly as she tries to pull him closer to her, urging him to stay beside her. He wants to...GODS does he want to, but he _really_ should-

  Any resistance he once had melts under her shy smile and unwavering onyx gaze. Her hands are small and soft, but strong and steady as she pushes herself up and over him. She can't overpower him physically, but her eyes are powerfully smoldering already as she bites her plump bottom lip and straddles him. He hisses back a gasp as his naked lower half is reacquainted with bare, slick heat. His mind blanks out as she grinds against him and he feels his bones melt into the bedding beneath him. 

  He's putty in her capable hands. Fucking useless, gooey, weak, pliable, mushy, quivering putty. She has him, and he's hers to do with as she pleases. 

  She swivels her sinfully delicious hips and pulls a groan from deep within his chest. She seems determined to keep him here with her this morning, and his musings are confirmed as she leans down to brush her lips across his, her breathless whisper asking him where he's going?

  His rough hands are glued to her thighs, and his voice is husky arousal still laced with sleep as a feral grin ghosts over his lips. One of his hands cups the back of her head with an incredibly gentle grip as he growls, "Fucking _nowhere_ ," before pulling her to him to crash his lips against hers. 

  Tender and delicate fingers weave into brilliantly blue tufts of wild hair as she writhes and arches against his warm and firm skin. He trails his hand down her spine and flattens his palm against the small of her back, guiding her against him and trying to get her to slow her pace.

  She doesn't seem inclined to respond to his silent request at the moment. _She_ controls this round, and she decides that she can't wait much longer as she braces her hands on either side of his head, lifting herself up just enough to use her lower lips to guide him inside.

  He moans long and low, eyes clenching shut, his grip tightening around her as he presses his forehead into her ample chest. Her skin is flawless and soft, and he gives in to his urge to lavish her flushed flesh with attention, swirling his tongue against every inch he can reach, his hips thrusting up to her downward gyrations while his grunts answer her gasps. He's drowning in ecstasy and not even dreaming of putting up a fight.

  She's strong enough to overpower him after all, it seems. He'd be proud of himself for his discerning taste, but his wise choice in weapons will have to wait until he can think again clearly. It's a good thing that she's on his side, because she has him right where she wants him; weak-willed and all.

  She pauses to catch her breath, rising up from her forearms and propping herself up on her hands in order to see him more clearly. She continues to swivel her hips slowly, dancing dangerously close to teasing territory. One masculine and sturdy hand splays across her back to support her while the other cups her cheek; his touch is incredibly familiar and so deeply ingrained into her memory that she couldn't forget it even if she tried. He's handled her body in and out of her many weapon forms too many times to count, and he's been nothing but trustingly respectful from day one. His wavelength is even more commonplace than her own as it wraps around hers; it is a constant and welcome reminder of his undying devotion to their partnership. He may be loud, stubborn, hyper and a bit self-absorbed, but he's just as saturated with loyalty and inner strength. It's his ability to always stay true to himself and his friends that has captured her heart so completely.

  His eyes are startling clear and brilliant as he lies beneath her, gazing up at her with such honest adoration as his thumb strokes her cheekbone. She soaks in this side of him that is reserved for her and her alone. She has his undivided attention, and she will not take it for granted. He breathes her name in awe a scant second before she claims his lips in a passionate reminder of just how brilliantly her own flame of loyalty burns for him.

  She attacks him with a brutally quick pace, breaking the kiss with an intense cry of his name, gasping as his breathy whispers and words of how good she feels wind themselves around her as tightly as his supportive grip. She gives him no time to adjust to her demands, bites her lip as he tries to guide her hips, but to no avail. She's still in charge, and she intends to take advantage of it.

  His voice is rising in pitch and breaking in desperation. He's so close it's almost painful. He wants to flip them over so that it is he who is center stage once more. He wants to feel her wrap herself around him and bite his shoulder to contain her angelic cries of his name. His greatest follower is running the show, though. He will let her lead him and allow her to take the spotlight this time, because it is during this time that she shines the brightest; she is his morning star that guides him as dawn approaches. Their souls are writhing against one another in a heady embrace as his tongue swiftly invades her mouth, eagerly swallowing her moans as her hands wrap around his wrists, her tongue running along his lower lip, nipping it playfully as she pins his arms above his head somewhat forcefully.

  Should it turn him on so fucking much to have her boss him around like this?

  She must like being in control, because she's so wet and tight that it's making him sputter. He gasps, and the sound ignites something within her as he chants her name reverently. He should be somewhat wary that maybe his masculinity is being threatened as she grips his wrists that much tighter, rocks against him that much more forcefully, kisses him a bit harder.

  He responds with a particularly powerful thrust that has her hands sliding down his forearms as she melts, her pace sloppy and losing rhythm as she slows in both exhaustion and a temporary heavenly state. Her face says it all, and her voice is as clear as a bell as she calls out his name at last.

  It's just as well; he couldn't have lasted much longer even if he wanted to. There's just something about her voice as she cries out for him in the throes of her orgasm that does him in every single time. It strokes his already sizable ego, and the cheshire grin tugging at his lips falters and disappears as the incredible heat of her robs him of his victory, a whimper escaping his throat (to his own shocked dismay); if ever accused, he'll deny it like it's his job.

  Oh, fuck it. He doesn't care. If she wants him to cry like a little bitch, he'll do it anytime and anywhere if this is his reward.

  She's so consumed in her own pleasure that she almost stops altogether, and he begs and pleads for her not to stop, clenches his eyes shut in tortured delight. He gasps and pants and grits his teeth as his hands break her lax hold to grip her hips and continue to move her against him. He comes with a shouted curse as his fingertips press into her skin. She's clenching and pulsing around him, milking everything from his body and soul all at once, and he's losing his mind as she rides him into the sunrise. It's too much and not enough at the same time. He only slows the pace and relents his grip on her waist when he slowly opens his eyes and sees her looking ridiculously sated and spent above him, practically shaking with exhaustion as she pants and gulps in air to catch her breath.

  He finally relaxes his muscles as he descends from the heavens to the mortal realm once more, sighing and staring up at the ceiling in bliss as he pets and caresses his now boneless weapon's back. She has collapsed against him none to gracefully, and it makes him deliriously happy to have her on top of him.

  Tsubaki places tender kisses along his neck before trying to remove herself from her position on top of her meister, but Black*Star won't hear of it. She giggles as his hands and unyielding grip along her spine form the words of his silent protest. Like she'd ever fight it, anyway. Her fingertips trace the corded muscle beneath his collarbone as he turns and plants a kiss against the top of her head.

  They laze about for almost twenty minutes, exchanging words of love while basking in each other's warmth and soft touches. Early sunlight dances along the walls, the scent of the desert spring wafting through the open window and being carried by the cool breeze. She begins to stretch lightly against him, preparing her lax muscles for the day of practical responsibility ahead of her. There is laundry to be done and shopping lists to be made for the meals that will need cooking. She begins to get up, but freezes at the feeling of coy hands wrapping themselves around the backs of her thighs.

  He's quick to roll them over, pinning her tall and shapely frame beneath his hard and unyielding one, looming over her with an energetic smile at her blushing squeak of surprise, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he asks her where she thinks she's going?


End file.
